


a boy with eyes like an anthem

by megster



Series: a thousand separate heavens for all of my flying parts [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Modern AU, Warning: child abuse, actually i'm not quite certain what this verse is doing, and sort of a flowershop au, sort of a college au, with a bookstore and coffeeshop thrown in
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-11-29 23:13:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megster/pseuds/megster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She gauges the collective mood of their group by the amount of ice cream in the freezer.</p><p>High ice cream levels generally coincide with high spirits.</p><p>Low ice cream levels generally coincide with low spirits.</p><p>It isn’t rocket science.</p><p>Anyway, ice cream levels are fairly high right now, but that’s to be expected. It’s still early in the semester, and things haven’t fully picked up yet.</p><p>Which is why she’s so surprised when she goes out to the vegetable greenhouse to make sure the watering system is working and sees Gavroche sitting amidst the tomato vines, head bowed and arms wrapped around knees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fauchelevent's: Crisis Level Six (Or is it Seven?)

She isn’t sure how it happened, exactly, but the shop (and the greenhouses out back) has become the group’s collective no-judgment zone.

They laugh and talk and plan in the Musain, the coffee house across the street, and they curl up to study and read in Rue Plumet, the little bookstore next to the Musain, but they come to Fauchelevent’s to vent and cry and _feel_. There is something oddly peaceful about letting yourself cry while surrounded by flowers and bonsai trees and beautiful, living things.

In the beginning, she had worried what her father might think, but of course he just took it in stride and started to keep tubs of ice cream permanently in the back room’s freezer.

So.

Musain: social headquarters.

Rue Plumet: academic headquarters.

Fauchelevent’s: mental and/or emotional breakdown headquarters.

It’s a bit odd, she supposes, but it suits them.

*

So they have odd habits.

They are not, Cosette thinks, exactly normal.

They are a mix of college and graduate students (and one high school student) with widely varying backgrounds and interests and problems and quirks.

They should not all get along, and sometimes they don’t, but most of the time they do.

And in the end, Cosette is quite sure she would do anything for each of the others, and that they would do the same for her.

*

She gauges the collective mood of their group by the amount of ice cream in the freezer.

High ice cream levels generally coincide with high spirits.

Low ice cream levels generally coincide with low spirits.

It isn’t rocket science.

They’ve only been completely out of ice cream one time, and Cosette prefers not to think about it. She’s pretty sure she’s mostly blocked it out of her memory, but suffice it to be said that it had been a disaster of a week during which they had final exams and Jehan and Courf had been fighting and Grantaire had gone _missing_ for three full days-- and no, that had not been the best week.

Anyway, ice cream levels are fairly high right now, but that’s to be expected. It’s still early in the semester, and things haven’t fully picked up yet.

Which is why she’s so surprised when she goes out to the vegetable greenhouse to make sure the watering system is working and sees Gavroche sitting amidst the tomato vines, head bowed and arms wrapped around knees. 

A side effect of working part-time at the shop is that she has gotten _very_ good at learning what everyone needs when they are upset.

(If it was Courf she’d go to him immediately and tuck herself into his side and let him cry or talk or stroke her hair and if it was Feuilly she would leave him alone for a little bit and then go offer him ice cream and if it was Combeferre she’d bring him something to keep his hands busy and then sit with him while he quietly tells her what is bothering him.)

But it’s Gavroche, and he’s fifteen and a sophomore and small for his age and Cosette is extremely protective of him and she’s known him for nearly his entire life and she knows when he wants to be left alone and when he wants company, and right now he wants company.

So she goes and sits by him.

He doesn’t look up but acknowledges her presence with a “Hey, Cosette.”

“Hey, Gav,” she says. “What’s up?”

He says nothing, sullenly sitting next to her. Which in itself is odd, because Gav is clever and quick-witted and fiercely independent and he may go through times of typical teenage angst or anger, but he is rarely sullen.

She doesn’t press him, doesn’t even ask why he isn’t in school.

But when he scoots a little closer to her, she takes it as permission to mother him (he doesn’t let her do it very often anymore) and hugs him.

He buries his face in her shoulder, and now she’s concerned. She holds him close for another moment then leans back and tips his face towards her with a gentle touch.

And is overcome with white-hot rage, because the left side of his face-- his eye is blackened and his cheek is bruised and now she notices that he’s breathing shallowly and _oh_ she has not been so angry in a very long time.

He yanks away from her, and she wants to punch something. Or someone, as it were.

“Stay here,” she says, and she is surprised that her voice isn’t shaking because when she looks down, her hands are.

“Cosette, I can take care of myself. I’m fine,” he says. “I am, really.”

“Like hell you are,” Cosette says, practically growling. “Stay.”

He stays, because he knows better than to argue with her when she’s like this.

She rises and goes to get ice from the freezer. And she texts Jehan.

Jehan works part-time at Fauchelevent’s and is possibly Cosette’s best friend in the entire world. He daydreams too much and recites poetry at odd times and loves flowers and music (and Courf) and dresses awfully, but it’s terribly endearing. She trusts him more than anyone, and he can be depended on to keep things to himself, and he is always gentle and understanding without being condescending.

She figures that sooner or later, this is going to be everyone’s problem, because that’s just how they seem to work--when one person is having a hard time, everyone pitches in to help somehow-- but she thinks that maybe she’ll keep it low-key for now.

_Hey, I need you to cover my shift at the shop. Please? I know you have class soon, but it’s a Crisis._

His reply is immediate. _Be there in ten. Level?_

Crisis Levels run from One to Ten. It’s a way for them to rate their problems. She and Courf had come up with it the first semester of freshman year, during their frightfully boring Intro to Logic class. This is not quite a Crisis Level Ten (the week of no ice cream had been a Crisis Level Ten), but she’d at least put it at a Seven. Or a high Six.

She tells him so.

Then she takes a few deep breaths to calm herself down, because nothing good will come out of calling Eponine all flustered; they’re both too hotheaded for that and they’ll end up doing something ill-advised and reckless-- it’s happened before. So she waits until she can speak calmly, and then she dials.

Eponine doesn’t pick up, but she texts Cosette-- _In a lecture. Is it important?_

_Yes._

And then her phone rings, and Eponine sounds worried and irritated and tired-- all normal things for her. “What’s wrong?”

Cosette finds that she doesn’t know what to say. What does she _say_? Your awful father used your baby brother as a punching bag? That doesn’t seem quite right, and she realizes she’s been quiet too long when Eponine says, sounding a little panicked, “Cosette? Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” she blurts out automatically, then cursing silently, backtracks to “Actually, no. I mean, kind of. It’s Gav.” And then, not wanting to leave ‘Ponine hanging, “He’s a little banged up but he’s in the shop and Jehan’s gonna come cover me and I’m going to get Joly or ‘Ferre over and everything’s taken care of, honestly, but I though you should know.” 

There is silence, and then Eponine curses, low and vehement and _angry_. “My fault,” she says, the words falling leaden from the phone. “Dad and I-- we had a fight last night.” 

“It isn’t your fault, ‘Ponine,” Cosette says, automatically and immediately.

She puts the phone on speaker and grabs the blender from on top of the refrigerator and begins to make a shake for Gavroche.

“Cosette, he takes it out on Gav because _God_ knows Azelma and I haven’t agreed on anything for a while, and it’s not like he can do anything to me now that I’m not in the house anymore.”

“Not your fault,” Cosette repeats firmly as she pours milk into the blender. 

“I fucking _hate_ him,” Eponine says. “I’ll be there soon.” And now she sounds angry, to Cosette’s relief.

Despondent, self-loathing Eponine is not what’s needed right now, but a pissed-off and protective ready-to-take-on-anything-and-anyone Eponine is all kinds of perfect.

“Okay,” Cosette says. “Careful driving. You’re no use to him dead.”

Eponine laughs a bit bitterly at that, and then hangs up.

Cosette curses softly under her breath as she throws ice cream and some frozen strawberries into the blender and shoots a text to Combeferre-- _Hey, I need you_. 

The nice thing about Combeferre is that he doesn’t ask questions until what needs to be done is done, and he’s awfully good in a Crisis. And this definitely qualifies.

It takes maybe a minute, and then she gets an answer:  _On my way_.

_Thanks_ , she shoots back, then starts the blender. 

She pours the shake into two glasses when it's done, tucks the bag of ice under one arm, and heads back out to the greenhouse to wait for the others.

And well, she's angry and upset, but she shouldn't be too surprised. It's been at least a month and a half since the last Crisis, she thinks wryly, and they usually can't make it through one. It's no less than she should have expected, really.

She curses under her breath again before re-entering the greenhouse.

Gav is sitting where she'd left him.

He grins at her when he sees the milkshake, and Cosette is inordinately relieved to see the familiar expression on his face.

"Here," she says, handing a shake to him. "And keep this on your face." She thrusts the bag of ice at him.

He grimaces, but presses the ice to his eye. "You're worse than 'Ponine," he says.

"Mmm," Cosette agrees, sipping at her own shake. 

He doesn't say thank you, but he does edge closer to her when she sits down.

She wraps one arm around his shoulder, and he starts to shake her off, then thinks better of it at the look in her eyes.

They sit there like that, and wait.


	2. Fauchelevent's: Crises Don't Solve Themselves, But a Plan Is In Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Eponine,” Cosette says, “I have an idea, I think Gav should stay at my house for a little while--”
> 
> Eponine, at the same time, nearly shouts, “I want custody of Gav. I’m old enough, and I’m a hell of a lot more stable than either of my fuckhead parents, and he absolutely cannot stay under that roof for three more years--”
> 
> They both fall silent, staring at each other.
> 
> Jehan covers his mouth with his hands, trying not to laugh.

Eponine is angry.

As it happens, she is not often angry.

Irritated, sure. Displeased, occasionally. Upset, yes.

But angry? 

Angry requires more energy than she’s usually willing to give.

She saves angry for special occasions.

This qualifies, because Gavroche is possibly the one person she cares about more than anything or anyone else in the world, and she would do anything, absolutely _anything_ , to get him out of the toxic environment of their house, her _old_ home; she had gotten herself out the moment she turned eighteen and she wants him out of there more than anything.

And she is furious, with her fucking piece-of-shit father and her fucking good-for-nothing mother and even with Azelma, because _she might have stood up for her brother_ but of course Azelma has always been a bit of a daddy’s girl with a bit of a malicious streak and not even half of Gav’s spirit.

She’s most furious with herself, though, because _this is her job_ , she’s supposed to look out for Gav, and she’s obviously doing a shit job of it, and it really is her fault; if she hadn’t gotten in a fight with her dad, he would never have gone after Gav.

If she hadn’t been so goddamn selfish, moving out the first chance she got, if she had taken a moment to think about her brother then, and _god_ , if this has been going on for the whole time she’s been gone, that’s more than _two years_ , and fucking _hell_.

She tries to calm down as she walks to her car--she’s pissed, but she’s not stupid, and she knows she’s not in the right state of mind to do anything even approaching helpful.

He’s not badly hurt, she tells herself, or Cosette would have been taking him to the emergency room instead of just calling Combeferre. He’ll be okay, he will. It won’t happen again, it _won’t_ , she won’t let it.

As she’s driving, it occurs to her that she had walked out of her lecture with no explanation whatsoever--it’s a large class though, and she figures she’ll shoot her professor an email later to apologize.

It’s about thirty minutes to Fauchelevent’s from campus, and she thinks that if she drives the whole way in silence she’ll end up crying and music usually makes things better but right now she can’t bear it and so she does what she usually does in her times of great need and calls Grantaire.

Whether he’ll pick up or not, well, that’s a hit-or-miss, but if he’s not passed out on their couch he usually answers her calls.

“Hello?” He sounds like he’s just woken up, and Eponine supposes it’s possible.

“Hey,” she says, struggling to keep her voice even. 

“What’s the matter?” Grantaire, when sober (and even when not), is surprisingly perceptive to people’s moods.

And so she tells him, the story spilling out of her in a rush, about how she’s a fucking horrible sister and a selfish person and how Gavroche absolutely can _not_ stay in that house anymore.

He’s uncharacteristically silent for a little while, but then again, Grantaire is delicate about certain things, and he’s no stranger to a less-than-optimal family life, and ever since that first weekend of hard partying freshman year, he’s somehow become her confidant and sort-of best friend (and roommate, although she still isn’t entirely sure how _that_ one happened).

Maybe it helps, Eponine thinks wryly, that half the time he doesn’t remember their conversations. Anyway, it’s enough that he’s willing to listen.

“You know,” he says, “You’re a good sister.”

“I’m _not_ , though,” Eponine says, still furious at herself. “If I was, this wouldn’t be happening. I’m the worst, I really am.”

“No,” Grantaire says. “If you were, you wouldn’t care this much. You wouldn’t care at all.”

The last sentence, she is sure, had slipped out of its own accord.

“Grantaire,” she says.

“You’re a good sister, ‘Ponine,” Grantaire says softly. “You are.”

“Thanks,” she whispers. “I’ll call you later.”

“Okay,” he says.

“

When Combeferre gets to Fauchelevent’s, Jehan is speaking earnestly to some customers about the proper care of some flowers-- lilies, he thinks.

He catches Jehan’s eye and Jehan tilts his head slightly, indicating for Combeferre to go on back.

Combeferre nods in thanks and heads to the greenhouses.

He checks the vegetable greenhouse first, because they all seem to favor the vegetable greenhouse when they’re upset, although he has no idea why. (He suspects it started because of Courfeyrac’s affinity for grape tomatoes.)

He finds Gavroche sitting on the ground beside Cosette, Cosette’s arm wrapped protectively around his shoulders. She’s flushed with anger and her eyes are hard, and Combeferre understands when Gavroche looks up at him with the left side of his face cut and bruised.

Courfeyrac is leaning against one of the tables, for once not laughing or joking. He’s deadly serious now, as he always is when one of his friends is hurt.

Combeferre kneels by Gavroche, who pulls away from Cosette and winces.

“Stay there,” Combeferre says quickly. “What hurts?”

“Here,” Gav says, gesturing at his general torso area. “It’s not that bad.”

Combeferre feels Gav’s ribs for breaks and finds none, to his relief. 

“Cosette, do you have any painkillers here?” Cracked ribs aren’t terribly dangerous, but they _are_ painful, and he needs Gav to be taking deep breaths to ensure that they heal correctly, and that _hurts_.

“Yes,” she says, and gets to her feet hurriedly. “I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you,” Combeferre tells her, and turns back to Gavroche to check his face and head.

*

Courf grabs her hand as she passes, and gives it a quick squeeze. She’s grateful for the contact, and offers him a smile before going to go get some Advil or Tylenol.

She’s been thinking, and she wants to catch Eponine before she goes to the greenhouse.

She grabs a bottle of Advil and pours a glass of water in the back room, then goes out to the front to intercept Eponine.

There isn’t anybody in the shop, and Jehan is perched on the counter, as is his wont.

“Is Gav-” he begins to say, but Cosette nods quickly. 

“Yeah,” she says, “He’ll be okay. But I was thinking, that he really oughtn’t be in that house, _ever_ , and obviously it isn’t a permanent solution, but--”

“You want to have Gavroche crash at your house,” Jehan says, quick to catch on as always. “Cosette--”

They interrupt each other far too often when they get talking like this, but Cosette can’t help it as she says, “No, really, my house is huge, you _know_ there are at least four unused bedrooms, and Papa wouldn’t mind--”

“No, I guess he wouldn’t,” Jehan says, not waiting for her to finish. “It wouldn’t fix things--”

“But it’s a stopgap,” Cosette says. “A temporary measure, until Eponine figures something out.”

Which is the moment Eponine stalks into the shop, swinging the door open with enough force to set the bell jingling a bit manically.

“Eponine,” Cosette says, “I have an idea, I think Gav should stay at my house for a little while--”

Eponine, at the same time, nearly shouts, “I want custody of Gav. I’m old enough, and I’m a hell of a lot more stable than either of my fuckhead parents, and he absolutely _cannot_ stay under that roof for three more years--”

They both fall silent, staring at each other.

Jehan covers his mouth with his hands, trying not to laugh.

“ _Yes_ ,” Cosette breathes. “Yes, you should have custody of him.”

“Did you just say that you want Gav to stay at your house?”

Cosette grins at her. “He’ll be safe there, won’t he? Until we’ve figured out the legal custody thing.”

Eponine nods slowly. “They’ll never even notice he’s gone. Or at least, they won’t give a damn. I’ll pay your father for Gav’s rent--”

Cosette shakes her head firmly. “Eponine, I’ve known him for his entire life. He’s practically a little brother to me. No rent.”

Eponine opens her mouth to protest, and Jehan, sensing the rising tension in the room (Cosette and Eponine are both notoriously stubborn and outspoken), leaps from the counter and says, “Don’t you want to go check on Gav?”

Both girls turn to look at him, and Eponine glares as Cosette flashes a smile at him.

She lets Cosette pull her to the back, and Cosette mouths, _Thank you_ , to Jehan as they go.

*

Courfeyrac glances down at his phone-- Jehan, of course. _Cosette and Ponine should be there in 3...2..._

He nearly laughs out loud when Eponine bursts through the greenhouse door with Cosette, holding a glass of water and a bottle pills, trailing behind.

_Good timing_ , he tells Jehan, a smile still playing on his lips.

The smile dies when he sees the look on Eponine’s face as she looks at her brother-- in part heartbroken, in part furious, and in part deep, deep sorrow.

“Gav,” she says quietly, and her voice is gentle.

Gavroche, for his part, throws his sister a wide grin. “I’m missing school again,” he says cheerfully.

Something in Eponine’s posture eases slightly as she mock-glares at him. “You delinquent.”

She crosses the room and sits by him as Cosette gives Combeferre the bottle of Advil.

Courfeyrac surveys the scene (Cosette hovering semi-anxiously over everyone, Combeferre telling Gavroche how to often to take a deep breath to make sure his ribs set correctly, Eponine watching her brother’s every move) and is satisfied that things are under control.

He slips out of the greenhouse and to the main shop, where Jehan is arranging a shelf of fresh vegetables and fruits. 

Courf sneaks behind him and steals a grape tomato.

Jehan elbows him good-naturedly.

“Well,” Courfeyrac says philosophically. “We were about due for a Crisis.”

“Mmm,” Jehan agrees. “It’s been a while since we’ve had over a Five.”

“When’s the last time?” Courf asks, popping another grape tomato into his mouth.

“Stop that,” Jehan says, “And... I think... We had that Seven when Bossuet broke his leg during that picket and we couldn’t get any emergency vehicles through the crowd, and then Joly got arrested for assaulting a cop. So that was, what, two months ago? Three?”

“Oh, right,” Courfeyrac says, grimacing a little at the memory. It had been an interesting day. Chetta had been _furious_. “That was... not fun.”

“It was a little fun,” Jehan counters. 

“That night was fun,” Courfeyrac concedes, because they had all ended up getting drunk at Cosette’s house-- some days you just can’t do anything but tip your cap to the universe. “The day was shit.”

“We’ve had some shit days,” Jehan agrees. “But more good ones.” He offers Courfeyrac a slight smile.

Courfeyrac wraps his arms around Jehan. “Our group is prone to disasters, aren’t we? We always make it through, though.”

Jehan nods and leans into Courf’s embrace. “We do. And we will.”

Courfeyrac buries his face into Jehan’s hair.

Jehan is right, of course.

They’ve always gotten through anything and everything the world has thrown at them, and Eponine and Gav will get through this, and come out on top.

So help him, they _will_.

Cosette chooses this moment to enter the room with two bowls of ice cream-- mint chocolate chip for Courfeyrac and cookies and cream for Jehan. “Hey,” she says, handing them their respective bowls. “Thank you for coming, both of you.” She deposits a kiss on Jehan’s cheek and throws an affectionate arm around Courfeyrac.

“Is everything okay?” Courfeyrac asks, as he pokes at his ice cream experimentally (it’s just thawed enough to eat easily with the plastic spoon he’s holding).

Cosette takes Jehan’s spoon from his hand and steals a bite of his cookies and cream ice cream. “Mhmm,” she says. “We’ve got a _plan_. Kind of.”

“Is this,” Jehan says mildly, “A Cosette and Eponine plan? Because the last one was... interesting.”

“It _worked_ , didn’t it?” Cosette demands. “And anyway, Combeferre thinks it’ll work too. Combeferre plans always work.”

Courfeyrac relaxes.

It’s true.

Combeferre plans _do_ always work.

They’re going to be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, feel free to leave comments or drop a question in my askbox (singingtomorrows.tumblr.com/ask)
> 
> hope you enjoyed, and sorry for the slow update!
> 
> grantaire is contrary bastard.

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from a poem by andrea gibson that can be found in her book Pole Dancing to Gospel Hymns
> 
> it goes like this:
> 
> “Right now there’s a man on the street outside my door  
> with outstretched hands full of heartbeats no one can hear.  
> He has cheeks like torn sheet music  
> every tear-broken crescendo falling on deaf ears.  
> At his side there’s a boy with eyes like an anthem  
> no one stands up for.”
> 
> thanks for reading! i hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> feedback is very much appreciated as this is my first foray into a modern verse with these guys.
> 
> (also, you can find me on tumblr as singingtomorrows. come talk to me!!)


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